The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina (70)

“It’s kind of hard when all five of your husbands die in a ten-to twelve-year period,” Rey said. “Think of the paperwork.”

Marimar flicked his ear.

“What? We were all thinking it.”

Rhiannon giggled. “I wasn’t thinking that, Uncle Reymundo.”

Jefita made the sign of the cross again and said, “I hope they’ve patched up their differences in heaven.”

Rey, Marimar, and Tatinelly shared a strangled silence. They knew exactly where their grandmother was, and it wasn’t in heaven. Unless the GPS for heaven was Four Rivers, USA.

Ana Cruz put aside every photo of Orquídea so that the Montoyas could keep them. The rest of the box was filled with dresses. A few seashells. A school uniform. A white communion dress, and a handmade veil with dozens of shiny oblong pearls. Rey and Tatinelly took turns trying it on, but Marimar kept searching. Her fingers itched with promise, like they had only just begun to scratch the surface of the mystery that was Orquídea Divina Montoya.

“Is this a hunting knife?” Marimar asked and wielded a small blade with sea-green patina on the rusted copper studs on the handle.

Jefita clapped her hands once. “Orquídea’s fishing knife. She could gut a river fish in seconds. Drove her mother furious when she didn’t stop.”

“Can I keep this?” Marimar asked. She didn’t know why she wanted it, or what she could do with a decades-old blade that had all but lost its edge, but Ana Cruz parted with another part of her sister.

There were letters, but they were from Orquídea to Ana Cruz. “My father never showed them to me. I didn’t find them until after he passed and I had to clean out his office. She talked about traveling the world, but she was careful not to include too much information. She spoke of the man she was in love with and described life in each city.”

Rey let go of a strangled sigh. “I thought she was just afraid to see the world. Turns out she saw, she conquered, and she said ‘no thanks.’?”

Marimar tried not to laugh. Pieces of Orquídea were coming together. She’d left the abusive Buenasuerte house. She’d met a man. Traveled the world. She went to the valley. What were they missing?

“This still smells like burned sugar,” Tatinelly said as she unfurled a poster. It was for an old-fashioned circus with a girl in a glittering dress made of pearls sitting on a crescent moon. The Londo?o Spectacular Spectacular! featuring Wolf Girl, Orquídea Divina, and the Living Star!

“Holy shit,” Tatinelly breathed.

Rhiannon repeated it and ran off deep into the house like an echo of her mother. “Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!”

No one in the room was more delighted than Rey. “Grandmother was a showgirl!”

“You have her legs, Marimar,” Tati said.

Marimar looked at the woman on the poster. She tried to remember a time her grandmother had smiled so vividly, so joyously. Like there was life inside of her. But she couldn’t quite conjure the image.

On the poster, Orquídea must have been eighteen then. She didn’t have Pena until she was at least twenty, she knew that much.

“So, when you said she ran away, you meant she joined the circus.”

“My mother told me,” Ana Cruz said. “I’ve been struggling with whether to tell you.”

“Why?” Rey asked. “We’re millennials. We’re desensitized and have no shame.”

Marimar wanted to argue, but then decided her cousin was right. She didn’t understand why it was a big deal that a girl had run away and joined the circus. But then again, this was not her world or generation. She’d grown up barefoot and free in a valley full of magic. These were all things her grandmother could have told them and known she was safe recounting her past. So why hadn’t she?

“She was so beautiful,” Tatinelly said, touching the likeness carefully, like she was afraid it would disappear when she did.

An idea came to Marimar. “Is there a museum for things like this?”

“A circus museum?” Rey asked skeptically.

She touched the thorn at her throat. “There’s one in Coney Island. The whole place used to be a carnival.”

“Let me ask one of my professor friends,” Ana Cruz said, tapping her chin. “He loves obscure history about Guayaquil. Don’t get your hopes up. These things used to pass through towns, but they wouldn’t stay long.”

Rey wrapped an arm around Marimar. “It’s a good thing we have a cousin who is here to look for ghosts.”

Marimar sighed, taking an orange wedge he offered. She bit down, sweet citrus juice running down her fingertips. “They’re your ghosts, too.”





22

LA SIRENA DEL ECUADOR




The following day, one of Ana Cruz’s contacts called with good news about a hole in the wall “historical center” located in the back room of a comic book shop. When they were ready to go, Mike announced he’d stay back and sleep. Mike only seemed to be able to get up to use the bathroom, but insisted he was fine in bed, and Tatinelly had woken up with bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep. Jefita worried and tittered as she made tea and refused to leave the house until they all drank and ate. It felt right having someone care for them. Marimar had almost forgotten what that was like.